Tease
by Falfaly
Summary: Han/Leia. Han Solo is a tease. Leia Organa has a Han-addled brain and a Han-smitten body. Luke may have been more adept at wielding the Force, but Han had managed to get her into his bunk. FLIGHT TO BESPIN smutty-smut-smut. [New for 2020. Warnings: l, s,a]
1. Chapter 1

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**I**_

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I couldn't see the point in stretching out the posting of this fic, so here it is - complete, all 8 parts. I hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

_Tease. Flirt. Libertine. Heartbreaker. Party boy. Tender chafer._

Of all the words—formal and colloquial—Leia Organa had considered using to describe Han Solo, she settled for the most indisputable one: _Tease_.

From the very first time they met, Han had teased her in some way, shape or form. Although relentless, his teasing was always playful, never intentionally harmful. Even the irreverent nicknames he gave her were a form of teasing. And now Leia could recognise his teasing for what it was: attention seeking; a way to draw her eye toward him to elicit validation of himself and an emotional response from her, in whatever guise that may be.

Teasing was the Han Solo mode of courtship. Once, Leia may have questioned its probability of success. However, now they were sleeping together, there was no doubt about it. It had worked on her. She knew it. He knew it.

Teasing, Leia wryly considered, was Han's super-power. Luke Skywalker may have been more adept at wielding the Force, but Han Solo had managed to get her into his bunk.

Once their relationship became more intimate, Han's teasing had assumed an unapologetic sexual flavour: enticing, tempting and titillating her, before pulling away at the last moment. His new technique did not last as long as his old method—he did not have the same level of restraint when it came to Leia and sex—but it was more than highly effective; he took great delight in stretching out the anticipation before satisfying both of their desires.

_Tease._

Leia had decided that two could play at this game. She may have been inexperienced in the ways of lovemaking, but she had other skills in the fields of strategy, diplomacy and politics. She could draw on a wealth of expertise and finesse in areas that far exceeded anything a Corellian smuggler could come up with. She was certain of matching him in a loth-cat/loth-rat contest of tease and counter-tease.

Besides, what did Han have in the way of relevant ability, apart from a drop-dead handsome face, a taut and highly attractive body in anyone's language, and the unquestionable prowess to bring her to orgasm.

_Orgasm._ That, she acknowledged, could be her downfall. In Leia's books, that was Han's other super-power: his ability to make her orgasm. Without doubt, the man knew his way around a woman's body. Without fail, and at this early stage of their sexual activities, he ensured her desires were completely sated. And without reason, he knew how to use his tongue.

_That's your Sex-With-Han-Brain talking,_ she lightly admonished herself.

By the end of their lovemaking sessions, Leia was always utterly spoilt and satiated. Sometimes, it felt as if she would climax from something as simple as an intense hazel look from his _bedroom eyes_, or a few words in that deep, rich baritone she thought of as his _bedroom voice_.

Usually, it was not just once that she climaxed; it had become a regular occurrence for her to orgasm numerous times in the same session. Han took great pride in demonstrating the range of multiple climaxes she could achieve, including compound singles, sequential multiple and serial multiple orgasms.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain._ She had obviously been paying careful attention to her teacher if she knew how to categorise her orgasms.

Leia was grateful for this skill-set he enjoyed practicing on her and coaching her in how to attain. She wished she had known about his proficiency earlier; three years earlier might have helped.

But she wasn't one to dwell on _What Ifs_ and _If Onlys_. She and Han had eventually stopped butting heads and saying the opposite of what they felt long enough to shift into the carnal stage of their relationship. She was thankful that there would now be some extremely pleasurable ways to keep herself occupied over the next three-and-a-half Standard weeks.

After that…she hoped—dreamed—there was an 'after that'. She could feel herself falling for him, dangerously and ardently—if she hadn't already.

Leia knew she had fallen for Han, otherwise she wouldn't be sleeping with him.

The intensity of Han's affection, tenderness and passion was as overwhelming as her own feelings for him. She was certain there was no way he could leave her now. They hadn't had _that_ conversation yet. It churned away in the background, looming on the horizon, only to be met once they returned to the Alliance Fleet. Neither of them was prepared to tackle it at this early stage of whatever it was that was happening between them. So, they chose ignorance over recognition and confrontation. Three-and-half weeks to pretend they weren't two people from antithetical ends of the spectrum; polar opposites; fugitives from the Empire and bounty hunters; in the middle of a war; limping their way towards salvation on painfully slow back-up systems.

For Leia, one way to help maintain this blissful ignorance was to leverage her methodical organisational skills—or _being anal_, as Han liked to call it. She had been keeping track of the various time spans on her wrist chrono, which admittedly now spent more time off her wrist and on the desk in Han's cabin.

They had escaped from Hoth about 85 hours ago, just over four days. Fourteen or so hours after the _Millennium Falcon_ dropped off the back of a Star Destroyer to float away with the rest of the garbage, Leia had finally confronted Han and stated that she was interested in exploring their relationship further.

Her approach had not been that cut-and-dried nor as official. It was more accurately described as Leia cornering Han—straight out of the 'fresher, half-dressed, rumpled and as gorgeous as ever—in his cabin and admitting that, after all this time, he was right, that she did want to have sex with him. And now, in fact.

Another 53 hours had passed since that initial glorious moment, which meant it would take approximately 35 Standard days to reach the (hoped-for) sanctuary of Bespin's Cloud City.

Throughout the time of their newfound intimacy, she and Han had stepped out of his cabin for less than five of those hours. It was no wonder then that Leia was essentially galloping up her rather steep, sensual learning curve. _Practice makes perf_ect, as the old Alderaanian saying went.

Chewbacca steered clear of them, leaving the couple to their own devices, conceivably relieved that the belligerent couple had finally given into their mutual attraction and taken the next step. Leia suspected Chewbacca had been perplexed by what appeared to be complex human courtship rituals. But she doubted the Wookiee was as frustrated as she and Han were with the knots they had managed to tie themselves into over the previous three years.

Once or twice during the quieter moments when they were recovering from the latest session of lovemaking, Leia had thought about calculating potentially how many orgasms she had missed out on. Until she theorised that the number was an unknown unknown, with too many random variables within a probability space. Then she realised that was all ridiculous junk-strategic planning, risk management rubbish, pseudo-mathematics and probability mumbo-jumbo.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain._

This would forever be her new moniker for whenever her physical and sexual attraction towards Han swamped her otherwise logical brain processes. Her _Sex-With-Han-Brain_ disorder.

Somehow, with this new affliction, Leia was intent on meeting and exceeding Han's practices of teasing her. She recognised the challenge that lay ahead, but she hadn't been raised in the Royal House of Alderaan for nothing. She would do all she could to make sure he received as good and hopefully better levels of teasing than what he dished out to her.

Leia's only concern was that her Han-addled brain would conspire with her Han-smitten body to derail her efforts.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**II**_

* * *

Seven hundred and eight hours out from Bespin, at the beginning of the day cycle, Chewbacca's patience ran out.

The _Millennium_ _Falcon's_ internal lights had flickered, strobed, and died completely before the blue glow of the emergency lighting activated. As they were joined at the groin in fervent coupling, Han and Leia hadn't cared what the ship's environmental control systems were up to, especially as they had become rather adept at finding their way around each other's body no matter what the level of illumination.

Inhaling deeply, they spiralled down from their euphoric high, legs intertwined, hands touching and stroking, offering soundless comfort and reassurance of their shared enjoyment. Not that it mattered to them, but the internal lights had stuttered back into life. This was quickly followed by an annoyed _thump_ on the hatch. _That_ had mattered to Leia, and she instinctively pulled the covers up over their naked bodies and snuggled into Han's side.

Chewbacca's growl sounded through the durasteel hatchway. [Solo? When you and the Princess have finished copulating, I need your help.]

Leia did not understand Shryiiwook, but Han's grimace suggested the growl was more demand than question. He gripped his temples with thumb and index finger, palm covering his eyes, as if a headache was emerging.

"Seems like you've sorted out the problem," he called out, his breathing still slightly affected.

Chewbacca persisted. [Put your dick away and get out here. We've still got a long way to Bespin and I don't want the ECS packing it in next.]

Han responded with an exaggerated sigh. "Give me ten minutes."

[I'll give you five.]

"Fuck it, Chewie. I want a 'fresher first."

[Good idea. You reek. I can smell you from here.]

A _woofing_ Wookiee chuckle echoed through the hatch as Chewbacca headed back down the corridor towards the main hold.

Han turned towards Leia, regret colouring his eyes. "Sorry. I need to help Chewie sort out a few things. Shouldn't take long."

The kiss he pressed to her mouth was gentle, a sharp contrast to the passion he had just shown her.

"Why don't you stay here; take it easy." He leaned in closer, his lips lifting hers with each softly-spoken word. "Keep dinner warm for me."

Leia placed a hand on his chest, pushed him back slightly and arched an eyebrow. "Keep dinner warm for you?"

His smile was more impish than embarrassed. "Yeah"

She dragged her fingers along his jaw, bumped a fingertip against the end of his nose. "Incorrigible."

"Always."

Her rejoinder was another kiss, this time deeper, her tongue sweeping into his mouth before she told him, "I think I'll get up, too. Stretch my legs."

That _Sex-With-Han-Brain_ was compelling her to remain by his side, or at least keep him within her sight.

"Puttin' them around my ears ain't stretchin' 'em enough for you?" he asked around another cheeky smirk.

Leia glanced down at her hand tracing patterns through his chest hairs, her smile suddenly coy, still coming to grips with the casual way they spoke about their sexual desires and activities. "Not quite."

"Guess we need more practice, then," he brightly suggested.

Han hit the sonics first, shaved, brushed his teeth, dressed and left the cabin while Leia conducted her own ablutions. She slipped on a pair of Han's old sweatpants, tightly cinched at the waist and legs rolled up numerous times; a white t-shirt of his, the lower hem of which draped against her thighs; and his thick, white spacer socks engulfing her feet. She finished off the ensemble with a scrappily pulled-together tail of her hair hanging down her back.

No crop-top bra or underpants. Where would the fun be if she wore underwear? That wouldn't give Han the opportunity to look and to touch. Bra and pants would only get in the way of whatever she and Han ended up doing later. Experience had shown her that while underwear didn't necessarily slow Han down, he would appreciate the sway of her breasts beneath the t-shirt as she moved around the ship.

Leia savoured the direct contact of the sweatpants against the relentless ache between her legs, using it to ease some of her need while also increasing her desire for Han-relief—essentially teasing herself. In addition to the ache, there was a tenderness, higher up inside her. Seems like you could get too much of a good thing. Fortunately, Han had introduced her to a personal lubricant gel that had a soothing as well as a stimulatory quality to it.

Leia was certain that Chewbacca wouldn't know that some human cultures considered women who didn't wear underwear to be immoral. But she liked the _idea_ of promiscuity, if only for the next three-and-a-half weeks, and then only for Han.

As she placed Han's toothbrush in her mouth, a habit she had readily fallen into, Leia was startled by the erotic and domestic nature of this task. It gave her a small thrill to know that their intimacy extended beyond sex, and the simplicity of it was familiar and comforting. They shared other bodily fluids, she reasoned, so why not share this as well.

With toothpaste foaming out of her mouth as she moved the sonic brush around the surfaces of her teeth, Leia considered herself in the 'fresher mirror. She wrinkled her nose as if it was itchy. She looked a sight in baggy male clothing, unkempt hair and no makeup—a far cry from the princess-soldier she had been on Hoth. But her eyes sparkled; skin glowed; there was colour in her cheeks; and the corners of her lips curved with the insinuation that she had a secret she was not prepared to share.

She looked relaxed, casual, as if she belonged on the _Millennium Falcon_ as part of its permanent crew, not in her role with Alliance High Command. She decided she also looked like she belonged in the arms and bunk of a certain Corellian smuggler. Not any Corellian smuggler. Just a certain one who had saved her in so many ways, yet again. If that belief didn't suggest she had fallen for him, what did?

She spat the toothpaste into the basin, rinsed her mouth, studied her reflection once more. Her smile grew wider, and she facetiously cautioned herself about that _Sex-With-Han-Brain_ chatting away incessantly inside her head.

The chaos she and Han had created in the bunk called out to her accusingly as she stepped out of the 'fresher suite. For a few moments, she made a tepid effort to straighten the cover.

Was it worth making the bunk if they were just going to mess it up again in a couple of hours, or minutes? Typically, Han wasn't at all worried about it, and while it was _his_ bunk, Leia had effectively taken up residence in his cabin; it was just another aspect of his life for which she had assumed joint ownership.

Leia pulled the cover back and decided to wipe up the outcome of their recent lovemaking session, as well as the smudges of personal lubricant gel dotted across the bottom sheet. Deciding the sheets _could_ do with an airing, she left the cover pushed to one side and tossed the damp washcloth back into the 'fresher.

Leia found Solo and Chewbacca at the dejarik table, pouring over the _Falcon's_ schematics on a datapad, an assortment of wiring, equipment and toolkits stacked up around them. A small work platform had been unfolded directly beneath an open hatch in the upper bulkhead of the main hold, creating a step-up into the compartment.

Han was wearing his dark trousers with the red Bloodstripes and a t-shirt the same style and colour as hers. His gun-rig was absent, remaining on the desk next to her wrist chrono back in his cabin.

She adored the way the soft fabric of the shirt stretched across his shoulders and chest, hugged his biceps. She could even make out the distinct, raised angle where his right collarbone met his shoulder. Her core ached at the remembrance of biting that point of skin and bone as he thrust into her.

Not surprisingly, she couldn't take her eyes off this man. She quickly noticed he hadn't shaved properly; there was a scattering of stubble on his neck, chin and jaw—a further enticement, she wondered with an internalised shake of her head.

At her approach, Chewbacca barked a welcome.

"Hi, Chewie. Good to see you."

Han gave her a brilliant smile of white teeth and scooted around on the lounge closer to his co-pilot, making room for her, reaching one arm towards her along the back of the cushions. Acknowledging his thoughtful gesture, Leia reached across and placed her hand on top of his but remained standing.

His casual glance at her breasts become a longer stare at the soft peaks of her nipples. His eye colour darkened, and Leia imagined the neurons and synapses in his brain firing off at lightspeed. He was so obviously predictable it was almost sweet. Once she would have been shocked or intimidated by this leer, but now she revelled in the newly-discovered influence she had over him.

"Worked out what's wrong with the lights?" she asked, tilting her chin at the datapad.

Her question held no anger or annoyance. Even to her own ears, she seemed relaxed and nonchalant about something else going wrong with the _Falcon_. That didn't mean she wasn't surprised the YT-1300 freighter was experiencing another failure. She was just more prepared to let things run their course and to give Han and Chewbacca the time to repair the fault, without harping or grumbling at them.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain._

"Have to get up there," Han explained, nodding at the upper bulkhead. "Circuit breaker keeps tripping. Something's overloading it." He raised a warning finger at Chewbacca who had opened his mouth to speak. "And keep your snide remarks to yourself."

Chewbacca's eyes widened with good humour, but he snapped his muzzle shut with an audible champ of teeth. The gruff friendship between Han and the Wookiee had always fascinated Leia; it spoke volumes that two such different personalities and beings were close friends.

Knowing the _Falcon's _eccentricities, Leia suspected this was not going to be an easy job. But she wanted to show her support and do what she could to assist.

Leia offered, "I'll make us some caf."

Han practically leapt from the lounge. Chewbacca noisily huffed to himself and received a warning finger from Han, before the Corellian turned to Leia and eagerly volunteered, "I'll help."

Ludicrously pleased that he insisted on following her, Leia once again acknowledged to herself why she was thinking that way. But, it didn't stop her from pointing out to him once they'd arrived at the galley, "I can make caf on my own."

"Been a few days," he noted. "Thought you might have forgotten."

The confines of the galley could have been considered claustrophobic by normal standards, but the way Han insisted on hovering behind her was more sensual than oppressive.

Leia nudged back against him in gentle rebuke. He took the opportunity to step closer and moulded his hands to the swell of her hips. It—_he_—was extraordinarily distracting, but she did her best to ignore her more basic instincts. She inserted a caf capsule into the drink dispenser, slid Chewie's over-sized mug under the nozzle and pressed the START button.

"I'll watch," he told her, and Leia heard the suggestive nuance in his comment. "Think I've forgotten how to do anything other than make love to you. Don't know how I'm gonna fix the electrics with Chewie."

At his declaration, Leia's stomach spiralled down towards the apex of her thighs, where it took up residence and began to hum and trill. While Han wasn't above using coarser language to describe their intimacy, she cherished the times he referred to it as 'making love'. The way he used those words, in his bedroom voice, made her quiver.

It was nothing short of astounding how quickly the dynamic of their relationship had shifted once they had taken the leap into bed. During missions and operations where they had been partnered together, Han had revealed he could be kind, considerate and attentive towards her, though this was usually in fits and bursts. Now, he consistently acted this way towards her. It was tempting to think of his behaviour as 'loving'; affectionate, tender, even doting; Leia wasn't certain she wanted to use _that_ word so soon. But it did may her knees weak whenever he said it.

Han stuck close to her as she retrieved two smaller insulated mugs from the cleaning unit on the countertop. It was almost like wearing a second skin; her Han-skin to go with her Han-brain.

"Have I told you how much I love you wearing my clothes?" His breath whispered against the back of her ear as his fingers played with the hem of her t-shirt.

Leia noticed his use of the word 'love' again. She struggled to remain composed as she set Chewie's mug of caf to one side, grateful that she couldn't currently see those damn, colour-shifting eyes of his.

"Once or twice."

"Have I told you how much I love undressing you when you're wearing my clothes?"

His hands were now under her t-shirt, skirting up across the sides of her torso, almost melting her with the heat of his touch.

"I can't recall wearing clothes that much over the last two days," she said as coyly as she could achieve under the circumstances, "so I'm not sure that you have."

"Uh, another thing we need to practise. I'll add it to the list."

His fingers were delicately caressing the undersides of her breasts, and Leia was tempted to lean down into his hands, but first she wanted to clarify his remark.

"There's a list? And you tick off things as you go?"

"And you don't and you're not?" he softly countered.

He had her there.

Leia definitely had a list: two in fact. There had been _Han Solo Attributes: Good, Bad and Ugly_ and _Reasons Not to Get Involved with Han_; the former had received an extensive re-write and re-titled to _Only Good Things About Han_; the latter had been superseded and spaced along with her virginity. And while there were other ideas—almost exclusively restricted to sexual practices—that she had been thinking about, she didn't quite have a list, more a vague, hormone-filled fog of her desires and dreams.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain…_

"We could always consolidate our lists," he suggested, his tone dropping to subterranean levels. "Compare notes. Make sure we're working off the same data."

The drinks dispenser churned away as it filled her and Han's mugs at the same time.

Leia jumped slightly as his hands fully cupped her breasts and felt his erection firmly against the small of her back as his hips pressed into her.

_Didn't we just have sex?_

The man could get aroused as quickly as she could. But she was still acclimatising to his intimate caresses and the casual way he took liberties with her body. Not that Leia was complaining. Not when he made her feel so good. She just had to remind herself that this was the way they now operated around each other, at least for the next few weeks.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain, _she crooned to herself.

"Oh." The pitch of his voice raised as he remembered something; he had no doubt been as distracted as she had. "Let me know what you think."

His hands remained on her breasts as he leaned down toward her left side, rubbed his jaw against hers, then dragged it up to her cheek. Leia's blood tingled as the rasp of his beard crackled against her skin.

Han softly kissed her temple, then moved to her right side. He repeated the action with his jaw. This time, Leia was surprised to feel smooth, freshly-shaven skin instead of the stubble she had been expecting.

Another kiss from Han to her other temple.

"Which do you prefer?"

Confused, Leia turned in his arms, obliging him to drop his hands back to her waist. She reached up and placed her palms on either side of his face, her fingers spreading from his jaw to his cheeks. She could now clearly see and feel that he'd shaved only half his face. There was an apparent line running from his neck, up over the prominence of larynx, his square chin, across his upper lip—brown-blond stubble on the right side, clean-shaven skin on the left.

Leia was completely at a loss to explain why he'd done this. She didn't know how to react, so she smoothed her fingers across his face.

"I'm conducting a survey," Han explained to her matter-of-factly. "Gotta keep my customers satisfied."

For Leia, old habits die hard; she raised an eyebrow. "Customers, plural?"

He grimaced apologetically and explained, "_Customer_. Just one."

She couldn't help herself. She had wanted to find this out since they had started sleeping together. The opportunity to ask the right questions appeared to have arisen.

Lacing her arms around his neck, she found the space to step even closer to him, placed her socked feet between his boots as he pulled her up against him. "How long has there only been one customer?"

He met her gaze with unwavering, golden-brown eyes. "About two years."

Leia held the corner of her lip between her teeth and nodded in careful deliberation. "And has it been the same customer over those two years?"

His mouth twitched in amusement, clearly understanding the motives behind her queries. "The same one. For the whole two years."

If Leia understood what he was saying, he was admitting to remaining celibate for two years. Because of her. Han Solo had been _saving_ himself. For _her_.

_Oh, I've sorely misjudged you, Baby, haven't I?_

Blinking away suddenly misty eyes, Leia continued with their enigmatic allegory. "That's a long time not to distribute your merchandise."

"Tell me about it." His words were light, his gaze intense.

"And how did that work out for you?" she softly asked.

"Why do you think my list is so long."

It was a startling discovery: he'd had no sex for two years; content instead to imagine ways to make love to her, except 'content' probably wasn't the correct word. Knowing Han the way she did, 'resigned' was more like it. He'd known that if he wanted her, he had to focus on her. And that was why his teasing and attention had been persistent over the last two years.

Then Leia recalled that he had a tube of personal lubricant in his cabin, and the way he 'handled' himself… She envisioned him, alone in his bunk, or in the 'fresher, frustrated that nothing he did was getting through to her (_except it was_); thinking about her; aching for her…

A spark of pure lust tripped though her body at that idea. Oh, and didn't she want to explore _that_ further.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain. Sex-With-Han-Brain._

"It was a drought," Han continued. "The longest I'd experienced since I was a kid. But now the rains have come. The fish are leaping, the birds are singing, and things are _popping_ up all over the place." He gave her a small squeeze. "In the end, it was all worth it."

Leia's smile was small but filled with wonder as she stroked the hair at the back of his neck. "Han Solo waxing lyrical."

"You bring out the best in me," he softly admitted, then clarified, "The _mushy_ best in me."

The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming, and she thought he was going to kiss her. But he was eager for her answer to his original question.

"So, which do you prefer?"

Leia removed a hand from his neck and grazed her fingers across the stubble of his jaw, enjoying the rough crackling sound, then slid across the smooth skin on the other side of his face. She had experienced both textures against various parts of her body, and had thoroughly loved both sensations, like she did when it came to anything physical to do with him.

"Hmm…I'll have to think about this," she conceded, returning her hand to his neck and lacing her fingers together.

"Take your time," he seriously suggested, but his gaze now shifting down towards her lips. "We have to get this right."

"Of course," she agreed. "I'm impressed by your dedication to continuous quality improvement."

"Thank you. Your feedback is greatly appreciated and will be passed onto management."

Leia leaned up at the same time he moved down, met his mouth with hers. There was more warmth and tenderness than heat and passion in the kiss, although Leia could still feel his arousal pressing into her stomach.

An exasperated Wookiee growl unexpectedly disturbed them—like a cold bucket of water.

[Am I ever going to get my caf, or do I have to grow the beans myself?]

Self-consciously, Leia pulled away from Han, who was half-turning towards Chewbacca with murder in his eyes. Chewbacca ignored his partner and leaned into the alcove that housed the galley.

"Oh, hi, Chewie," Leia mumbled, now reaching for the mug of caf she had put to one side. "I'm sorry. I got a little distracted."

Leia had no idea what the Wookiee yelped in reply, but Han was not embarrassed in the least.

"Yeah, well you would," the Corellian sneered at Chewbacca.

The Wookiee reached past Han, offered another observation that seemed to raise Han's hackles further. Leia pressed the mug into Chewbacca's hand, reached back for the two other smaller mugs she had prepared for Han and herself.

"Now, boys," Leia said in her best imitation of her adoptive mother, Breha Organa, "no fighting. This ship is too small for you to be at each other's throats for the next few weeks."

She gave a mug to Han and motioned with her own for him to move out into the ring corridor. Chewie was already loping back to the main hold, grumbling something under his breath.

"He started it." Han's subdued murmur sounded like the beginning of a whine.

"And I'm finishing it." _Gods, I _do_ sound like my mother._ "Let's all have a nice quiet caf before you get stuck into it."

Han glanced back at her and waggled his eyebrows. "Get stuck into what?".

Leia was amused at how quickly his attitude could lift when he brought sex into the equation. Looks like he had a _Sex-With-Leia-Brain_. As if she hadn't suspected.

"The repairs."

"Oh. The repairs." His voice dropped as they entered the hold. "Maybe I could get out my toolkit later and do some repairs on you?"

One thing to say about her Han-addled mind, it was emboldening her responses to his suggestive remarks. "As you know, I'm rather particular. Do you have _that_ sort of toolkit, Han?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure I can come up with something you'll like. Improvisation is my specialty."

"I heard something else was your specialty."

[Are you two going to be like this for the whole trip?] Chewbacca interrupted from his position back at the dejarik table. [Because I'm heading out the airlock if you are.]

Han gave Chewie a sickly-sweet smile as he sat down on the opposite side of the lounge. "Do you need any help getting out of the airlock, because I'd be in that."

Chewie waved a sarcastic, contemptuous hand at him. [Puny human. You'll be wanting to measure dicks next. And you know what happened last time we did that.]

It was at times like this, Leia really wished she knew Shryiiwook; it could be disconcerting and frustrating only understanding half the conversation, particularly as she appeared to be the main topic.

Leia slid into the lounge next to Han, bumping her leg against his. "What can I do to help?" she quickly asked before either of them could say another word.

Han cradled one hand around his mug, the other reaching around her shoulders to pull her closer into his side.

"I thought you needed to write up that debrief report for your High Command?"

She raised a dismissive hand. "Plenty of time to do that."

"Oh, really?"

She pressed her lips together, wriggled them to suppress her smile, especially with Chewie watching them so intently. "Yes, really."

Han sipped at his caf, wriggled his mouth in deliberation.

"You could do a count of the fresh food in the galley and the rations in the starboard cargo hold. I'm sure we've got enough supplies—"

Leia suspected he and Chewbacca had loaded the _Falcon_ with its full complement of rations when they had intended leaving the Rebellion for good. That meant there were probably two months' worth available or more.

"—but it'd be good to get a full read-out. Chewie's already sorted out the equipment, spares and fuel."

[Chewie's sorted out a lot of things while you two have been—]

"Has anyone checked on Threepio recently?" Leia asked.

Not long after the Star Destroyer had left the _Falcon_ behind, Han effectively banished Threepio to the cockpit to maintain a permanent watch. The fussy droid was under instruction to conduct visual observations, monitor all sensors, and only disturb the organic members of the crew if a problem arose. That had been around 70 hours ago. It appeared no one had heard from the golden protocol droid since.

Chewie studiously looked elsewhere while Han pulled a face.

"So, there's been no concern for his welfare?" Leia pressed, turning towards Han and slipping away from his hold on her shoulders in the process.

"He's a droid,'" Han pointed out to her. "It's not as though he needs to eat or use the sani."

Chewbacca chose that moment to hurriedly rise from his seat and head across the main hold towards the open compartment in the upper bulkhead, leaving his mug of caf behind.

Han now pulled a face at the Wookiee. "Thanks, buddy."

Leia suspected she knew what this was about, and she was amused more than annoyed; it helped to fill in her understanding of Han's mind.

"Are you still angry that Threepio interrupted us kissing in the circuitry bay? Is that why you haven't bothered to check on him?"

"Hey." His protest was drenched in a heavy dose of hurt. "I've been in bed with you for the last 50 hours. Why would I be worrying about Threepio?"

Chewbacca was clambering up into the compartment, toolkit in tow, seemingly doing his best to be make as much noise as possible.

Leia gently touched Han's forearm. "Because he's a member of your crew."

"You're a member of my crew, too," he insisted. "I've been taking care of you."

For once, his sweet-talk wasn't about to trigger that Han-disorder she had contracted. She gave him the look she knew he couldn't return; the one that had the ability to make him experience something as close to guilt as he was ever going to get.

Han averted his eyes, dropping his gaze down to the mug of caf and ploughed on with his excuses. "I'm sure everything's fine. He's doin' his job—keeping watch. Otherwise we would've heard from him."

Leia continued staring at him, tilting her head in an effort to meet his eyes. She could see him scanning the dejarik table, his hands, the mug—anywhere but looking at her.

Han exhaled abruptly and stood, his eyes still avoiding her face. Leia watched curiously as he moved around the edge of the table and out the other side of the lounge, then back around the table and towards her. He was stepping up onto the deckplates above the floor vents when she stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

He stopped and looked back at her, shunted a finger in the direction of the cockpit.

"I'm gonna check on your droid."

She must have unintentionally moved her mouth or eyes because he amended his response.

"I'm gonna check on Threepio. A member of my crew." There was no sarcasm or smart-ass-ery in his comment.

"Han."

Leia called his name to keep him in place while she rose and walked over, stopping directly in front of him. As he was standing on the raised decking, he had added a good ten centimetres to his height. Despite their difference in physical stature, Leia actually felt taller than him; this was not the first time for this phenomenon.

Taking his hands in hers, she looked up at him and waited until his eyes met hers.

She suggested, "You go help Chewie before he gets cranky with us again. I'll check on Threepio. I know how you're allergic to him."

Han pushed his lips together. "Thanks. You're the best."

She nodded in agreement. "I know."

They shared a small smile before, holding hands, he stepped back down into the main hold and softly kissed her: short, sweet, loving.

They separated and, fingers still entwined, moved off in different directions, only releasing hands when the distance became too great.

Just before she reached the cockpit access arm, Leia's _Sex-With-Han-Brain_ kicked in again. She wondered if it was a proximity alarm, warning her that she was drifting too far from him. That, or her mind had latched on to a way to tease him.

"You realise," she called out to him, "the whole time you'll be repairing the electrics, I'll be coming up with items to add to your list."

The look he gave her could've spot-welded her to the deckplates if she'd been any closer.

"I better get to work on that toolkit," he promised.

Leia agreed, "You better."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**III**_

* * *

Leia was mildly perturbed that the cockpit hatch was closed. Most likely Han had shut it to make Threepio less inclined to abandon his watch.

It also meant it was a lot quieter throughout the rest of the ship without Threepio prattling away in the near distance. But it had effectively cut off the fourth member of the crew from interacting with the rest of the ship's company. Which, as she knew, was precisely what Han had intended.

Leia palmed open the hatch and stepped into the cockpit. Thankfully for his own good, Threepio was perched in Chewbacca's seat, not the pilot's position; at least the Wookiee was more tolerant than his captain.

"Hello, Threepio. How are you?"

The protocol droid seemed slower to respond than usual. He turned around in the seat with a level of awkwardness she had not previously noticed. Leia assumed the lack of physical interaction with organics may have caused this delay; interfacing directly with the _Falcon's_ sensors meant there had been no need for the droid to walk, talk or move for quite a while.

For Leia, it was the exact opposite. All she had been doing with Han was _physical interaction_, which hadn't required much brain-work. When she did try to take her brain out for an airing, that Han-disorder slotted right into place.

"Princess Leia," Threepio greeted her. "How gratifying to see you. I am fully operational and conducting my duties as instructed by Captain Solo."

Leia swore the droid's voice modulator no longer provided a simple emulation of pride—Threepio was practically purring with self-satisfaction.

"That's very commendable. Captain Solo has been singing your praises for undertaking an onerous but highly significant responsibility with such enthusiasm and diligence."

_Singing_…Han had tried serenading her with half-forgotten words of a soppy love song when he'd been down between her thighs a few hours ago, but that was as about as close to the truth as that lie was.

"Why thank you, Your Highness. Your praise is most welcome."

Leia decided to throw Han in at the deep end. "You should thank Captain Solo for the praise."

From the way he cocked his gold-plated head, Threepio—bless his positronic brain—appeared surprised by her comment, and rightfully so as Leia doubted Han had ever offered Threepio anything remotely resembling approval.

"Please pass on my gratitude as well to Captain Solo."

"I'll be certain to give Captain Solo as much gratitude as he deserves."

_If I have anything to do with it, Han will be getting more than my gratitude…_

"Is there anything you need to report?"

The droid briefly looked down at a display in front of him, consulting the results of his watch. "Neither short-range nor long-range sensors have detected any craft or probes. Likewise, my visual observations, whilst limited, have revealed no concerns."

"Well done, Threepio. Do you have any servicing requirements, or have you been able to temporarily shut-down during your watch?"

_Servicing…something about repairs and a toolkit and Han…_

"As I have indicated, I am fully operational and able to continue with my duties."

Leia grappled with a face that wanted to break into fits of giggles. She was having too much fun with Threepio's unawareness and her own filthy thoughts.

"That's wonderful." And she did mean it. Having Threepio up here on permanent watch gave her more time to spend permanently watching the _Falcon's_ captain. "Once again you have proven to be an indispensable member of the Alliance and a valued part of the crew of the _Millennium Falcon_."

Threepio sat up higher in his seat. "Thank you again, Your Highness."

Despite her wicked amusement, Leia was more than happy to do what she could to buoy Threepio's spirits and encourage him. Having a content droid who didn't interrupt them would be one of her main goals for the next few weeks.

Leia told him, "I'll check on you in a few hours,"—_hours, days, whatever_— "to see if you require any relief or downtime."

_Han-relief or downtime…yes, please, Captain Solo…a serving of both…_

"Thank you, Your Highness. I look forward to seeing you again."

Leia had just stepped back through the hatchway into the access arm when she reluctantly thought to add, "Threepio, you _can_ leave the hatch open if you wish."

For a moment, it almost as appeared as if Threepio was scratching his head. "Captain Solo suggested closing the hatch, and I must say that I concur with him. I am better able to focus on my duties with the hatch closed as it keeps out extraneous noise from the more disruptive members of the crew."

Half-wondering if that little dig was meant for her and Han, Leia said, "Excellent thinking, Threepio."

_How much noise do me and Han make anyway?_

With that remark, Threepio closed the hatch in her face.

_Well played, Captain Solo,_ Leia thought light-heartedly. _Well played. Oh, and well played to me, too._

She and Han made a good team—a good couple—when they worked together. Their previous ops and missions were testimony to that. It was only when they went out of their way to disrupt each other that things tended to fall apart. The last three years were testimony to that as well.

Leia headed back down the corridor, intent on grabbing her caf before starting a recce on the rations as Han had requested. She rounded the corner and came to a skidding stop, taking in the glorious scenery in the main hold.

Han was standing on the work platform, side on to her, reaching up into the partitioned ceiling, head and shoulders obscured by the bulkhead. He was talking to Chewbacca, who was scrabbling around in the compartment, directing where the Wookiee should start looking for the fault. Their voices were partially muffled by the flight and environmental control systems within the ceiling and the bulkhead itself.

Without the distraction of his face—and what a dangerously gorgeous distraction his face was—Leia could focus on the long, lean lines of his body. Tall boots leading up to the dark trousers; red Bloodstripe piping drawing her eye further up his thigh (which she had ground herself against); firm arc of what would have to be the sweetest ass she had ever seen (ground herself against); slight swell at the front of his narrow hips (rode) and waist (gripped between her thighs); contrast of white t-shirt as it hugged his flat stomach (kissed) and lightly muscled chest (stroked).

For the briefest of moments, Leia wondered if it was sexist to ogle Han this way; wrong to objectify him down to a series of extremely attractive body parts and the pleasure she had received from them—or had _that_ pleasure been a case of her molesting him? No, definitely pleasure for both of them, particularly if Han's appreciative, encouraging groans were anything to go by.

There was no one around to call her out—not even the man in question was aware of what she was doing. If Han had known, she imagined he would urge her to keep leering, and instruct her to clean up her drool when she was finished.

Didn't sleeping with him mean she had a right to stare at him in her leisure? And while she would never go as far as to suggest she had ownership of him, she liked the idea that they were tenants-in-common on each other's body.

It wasn't as though she was gawking at a stranger; that would be weird and creepy. No, she was simply appreciating the beauty that was Han Solo.

Delighting in unashamedly watching him without the possibility of being caught out by a third person.

Knowing that she had seen that body naked: above her; below her; between her legs; inside her; holding and loving her.

Craving for the moment they would make love again.

That Sex-With-Han-Brain was damn good at making persuasive arguments, and Leia was all too ready to be persuaded. She kept watching him as she drifted further into the main hold.

Han bent down to retrieve a coil of electrical conduit from the top of the platform, and, oblivious to her, took it up into the bulkhead compartment, standing on his toes to reach up and pass it through to Chewbacca. His t-shirt rode up and the Patron Saint of Spacers rewarded Leia with the view of a hand-width strip of skin stretching across Han's stomach, ribs and back.

_Not fair,_ she thought. _He's teasing me and he doesn't even realise it._

She was now a metre or so from him and he didn't appear to have noticed her. Her eyes were in line with the bottom of his sternum, which now wasn't as unfamiliar a position for her to be in as it once was.

She cast a glance behind her, planning her escape route as her feet glided forward in Han's spacer socks that she wore.

_Here's your chance. Go on. You know you want to. And he won't object._

She edged a hand closer and pounced: slid her hand along his lower torso, from the dip of his spine around to the curve of his waist, trailing her fingers across his warm skin.

Han flinched at the unexpected touch, instinctively shying away a few centimetres.

Leia was already on her way out of the main hold, darting away before she could be held liable for her actions. Grinning like a maniac, socked feet slipping on the smooth deckplates, Leia headed around the inner circumference of the ship. She stumbled, bumped off the safety cushioning of the ring corridor, sniggered, and continued.

She knew she was crazy; absolutely Han-crazy; weakly blamed it on that bewitching, tease of a man she couldn't get enough of. She hadn't behaved so playfully like this since her early teens.

This wasn't a simple space sickness—this was Sex-With-Han-Brain sickness.

She made the short journey down the corridor in quick time and came back around to the other side of the main hold. Ducking behind a cargo container to remain unseen, she resumed her observations.

Han was still on the platform, but he was tilting his torso upright, returning to his original standing position. It appeared he had been curious about her touch and had bent down to look for her.

She waited until he started talking to Chewie again, before coming out of her hiding place and stepping back into the hold.

Han pulled his elbows up and rested his forearms along the interior of the bulkhead ceiling. The hem of his t-shirt rode up and there it was again: the breathtaking, core-shivering strip of Han-flesh.

Leia ached for another touch of him, a taste of him.

This time she went behind him and gently placed three fingers just above his belt on the small of his back. He flinched again at the sudden trace of her hand, but quickly accepted her tenure of his body, continuing his discussion with Chewbacca as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening

Leia burnished the bones of his spine, walked around him and the platform, sliding her fingers against the skin on his lower torso until she was front on to him. Cradling her thumbs and index fingers against his waist, she slowly, so slowly, pushed her hands and the bottom of his shirt up, exposing the firm planes of his stomach.

Her eyes travelled up with the movement of her hands and she looked up into the compartment. Han was carrying on his conversation with an unseen Chewbacca, his face unresponsive to what she was doing to the lower half of his body.

_Teasing bastard._

She moved her hands up higher, pressing more firmly into his abdominals, adding the scrape of her short nails as she crested over the pectoral muscles of his chest, through the fine hair she loved playing with, drew a lazy circle around his left nipple.

His voice hitched slightly, and he shifted his hips, his attention now on the datapad that lay against the bulkhead ceiling, searching the schematic diagram.

Leia brushed a nail across his left nipple, turned her attention to the right side of his chest and repeated the action.

She looked up again; the button she had pushed caused his larynx to dip in his throat, but he remained focused on the datapad and the suggestions he made to Chewbacca. Only a slight curve of his lips betrayed that he knew exactly what she was trying to do.

His indifference earned a soft kiss to his stomach, just below his navel, another above, then a lick tracing the lower edge of his ribs from his sternum down to his waist, while continuing to stroke the sides of his torso. Han made a soft, indistinct sound in his throat, shifted his hips again.

Leia opened her mouth to suckle the side of his tapered waist, once, twice, three times. She added teeth and tongue. Another glance up into the compartment revealed that Han had closed his eyes, his head just starting to stretch back.

Smirking at the progress she had finally achieved, Leia ran her tongue across the skin directly above his belt until she came to the buckle. More wet, open-mouth nips of teeth and tongue caused his abdomen to hollow.

Her hands grasped his belt buckle like she owned it. Released the twin posts from their holes and slid the tale of the belt out from the loop. Undid the top fastener of his trousers to loosen the waist band. Returned her hands to his waist and ran her tongue across the skin of his lower stomach, from one hip bone to the other.

Leia pressed a palm against the front of his trousers to gauge her success, pleased to feel him hardening beneath her touch. Her intimate caresses of him were becoming second-nature to them both and he moved into her hand instead of shying away.

She drew her fingers around him, half-gripped him as well as she could through his trousers, almost used it to lever herself across to his side, where she gently bit into the top of his hip bone, then down, her tongue seeking out the ligament that ran from his hip to his groin. His lower back arched in response and she looked up into the compartment…straight into a pair of curious blue eyes.

Chewbacca made a low mewling sound as he stared down at her. Han hadn't realised the Wookiee's head was directly opposite him in the bulkhead hatchway, until Chewbacca reached across the opening and prodded the Corellian's shoulder. Han opened his eyes, shook his head as if waking from a very pleasant dream, but sagged a bit when he saw his co-pilot's large, shaggy head.

Leia belatedly pulled her tongue out from the waistband of Han's trousers and released his erection. The pre-Sex-With-Han-Leia might have been embarrassed at being caught so openly and blatantly feeling up her lover, but she was becoming immune to the idea of fucking-related shame. That was definitely Han's fault.

Leia had to stop herself from grinning like a disobedient schoolgirl. "Hi, Chewie."

"Pervert," Han muttered at the Wookiee.

Chewbacca grumbled at him.

"She's my girl." Han arced up. "She can do whatever she likes to me."

_My girl._ His description of her was nearly as quiver-inducing as his tongue. No one had ever referred to her like that—no one had ever had the audacity to refer to her like that.

Chewbacca shook his head and growled something that to Leia's ears sounded like an accusation.

"You're a Wookiee," Han countered, clearly annoyed. "I don't expect you to understand."

While the two of them traded insults, Leia re-fastened his trousers and did up his belt in a very businesslike manner. It would be more productive if she departed the scene. Hopefully the disagreement would stop, and they would get on with the repairs; the sooner they finished the repairs, the sooner she could resume licking her way down that taut and very striking ligament of Han's.

"I'll start with the recce on the rations," Leia said to no one in particular as the pair of them bickered above her. "See you in a little while."

With a whimsical sigh, she caressed that sweet, sweet (_gods help me!_) ass of his and moved away from the work platform.

Han's voice trailed after her as she stepped up onto the raised deckplates, clearly still arguing with Chewbacca. "See what you did. You embarrassed her away."

"I'm not embarrassed," she called out."

His haranguing continued. "She'll probably never want to have anything to do with me."

"I'll fuck you wherever you like," she purred in sing-song fashion.

That seemed to stop the Corellian.

Then she heard Han's simple shouted request. "Can I have that in writing? Prefer a holo-vid, but I'll take whatever I can get."

Leia walked back into the main hold, so she didn't have to yell back. "Babe, you always take whatever you can get," she responded. "But I'll see what sort of a contract I can draw up for you."

At the sound of her voice, Han squatted down onto the platform so he could see her again.

"A contract _and_ adding your stuff to my list?" he asked. "This is sounding kinda _official_." Leia could practically see the air quotes on his last word.

"You sound worried," she told him—the man who had just referred to her as _My girl_. She gave him a mischievous look, rested a thoughtful finger along the side of her face. "Are you worried, Han?"

He candidly returned her stare from his crouching position, almost but not quiet kneeling before her. "Not in the slightest, Princess."

"Good," she agreed.. "I'll see if I can come up with a draft and we can commence negotiations."

The air between her and Han crackled with fire and promise.

"Don't forget you still haven't told me which you prefer." He rubbed a hand across his jaw. "Rough or smooth. Perhaps we could include that in the contact."

"I like the way you think." _I like the way you fuck me,_ is what she nearly said. "Nice touch."

"_You're_ a nice touch," he said, clutching a hand to the front of his trousers in a way she so desperately wanted to explore further.

Her responding smile was slow and sultry. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever told me."

Chewbacca's frustrated roar echoed within the overhead compartment.

Han grimaced, rolled his eyes. "I better…"

"You better," Leia agreed.

With a shrug and a sigh, he stood up, his head and shoulders returning to the obscurity of the hatch, before grousing at Chewbacca, "Quit your whining. I'm here, I'm here."

Leia gave him one more thing to think about before she left. "And don't forget I haven't forgot about that toolkit you promised."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**IV**_

* * *

_Han-scent._

That was the name her Sex-With-Han-Brain had assigned to the distinctive fragrance that had been in her nostrils since she left his side.

It filled her every sense, permeated her body and wrapped itself around her exactly the way Han did. It smelt of masculinity, danger and mischief; self-reliance, arrogance and oafishness; sex, temptation and seduction; vulnerability, tenderness and love; the bodywash in the 'fresher; the leather of his holster; a hint of gun-oil he applied to his heavy blaster pistol; and the grease and lubricants he used to coax the _Falcon_ into co-operating.

Han-scent was everywhere on the ship. In his cabin, his bunk. The main hold where he was working with Chewbacca; she had passed back through to collect a datapad and had been struck by how attuned and attracted she was to his scent. She was hyper-aware of him; his scent, his presence. It was invigorating, intoxicating, and she never wanted this feeling to end.

It was even in the starboard hold where she had reviewed the status of the rations. As she had conducted the simple auditing task, all she could smell was Han. Han-scent was deliciously distracting, but it ensured she kept focussed on her job. Focus equated to finishing sooner rather than later. And that meant being able to spend more of her time with Han, or at least watching him again.

It was strongest on the clothes she wore—his clothes—which was why his scent appeared to follow her around as she worked. The t-shirt and sweatpants had been clean when she had first dressed in them, but that distinct Han-scent had been there from the start—infused by their previous wearer and the other few clothes he had in his small closet.

Han-scent was driving her wild.

Leia completed the ration review in what she considered to be pretty good time, collating the results into a spreadsheet detailing food name, hydration status, container type, weight, quantity and expiry date, along with similar spreadsheets for alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks. _Anal_, her Sex-With-Han-Brain helpfully pointed out.

Then she moved into the galley and produced similar spreadsheets on the fresh food and drink types, as well as what had already been opened and partially consumed.

By the time she had finished, she was rather pleased with her efforts, and while she was happy to contribute to their sustenance in this way, she hoped Han didn't ask her to cook or do anything more elaborate than open a can or unwrap a ration bar. Caf, though, she could make a mean mug of caf; provided she wasn't subjected to any Han-distractions.

Leia collected two transparent flasks of water from the cooling unit and two protein bars from the storage locker. She took these and her datapad back towards the main hold, eager to find out how the Corellian and Wookiee had faired.

Han had set himself up at the tech station and was repairing a series of circuit panels with a macrofuser. Protective goggles pulled over his eyes and concentrating on welding the panels, he didn't notice Leia had entered the hold. Flashes from the fusing arc flickered across Han's face and body as he worked, and Leia averted her gaze to ensure she didn't receive flash burn to her eyes.

Although it was tempting to tease Han again, Leia thought it would be preferable and safer to let him finish what he was doing. She could hear the odd stomp and mutter from Chewbacca up in the ceiling compartment, and she moved over to the work platform. Leaving one flask and protein bar and her datapad on the deck, she took the other flask and bar and climbed up onto the step. The platform didn't make much of a difference to the gap between her and the compartment; she was still a good head below the hatchway.

She called out, "Hey, Chewie!"

At least the Wookiee's response sounded friendly.

There was more noise and soft growls before Chewbacca's head appeared in the same position it had an hour earlier, his eyes kind and questioning.

Leia smiled up at him. "Thought you might like a break. Or at least a drink and something to eat."

Chewbacca _woofed_ his thanks and she passed the water and protein bar up to his outstretched hand. He made a comment that appeared to amuse himself immensely, and he smiled and chuckled before nodding at her and disappearing back into the compartment.

Perplexed that she had no idea what that was about, Leia told herself, _Ask Han to teach me Shryiiwook._ But she quickly discarded that notion. _Who am I kidding? As if that's going to happen._ There was no way she would be able to concentrate on anything more difficult than a spreadsheet or a debrief report this side of Bespin, especially if she was expecting to rely on Han to teach her.

_Sex-With-Han-Brain._

Leia hopped off the platform, collected the datapad, water and protein bar off the deck and headed for the dejarik table, deciding to at least _open_ that debrief report while she waited for Han to finish. She had just settled into the lounge and called up the report when Han switched off the macrofuser and placed it next to the finished circuit panels on the tech station. He pushed the goggles up onto his forehead as he swung around his chair, apparent that he had heard her discussion with Chewbacca and knew where to find her.

She smiled at him, enjoying the way the goggles mussed up his hair more than usual, and the sweet but silly way he had shaved. For her benefit.

She asked, "Finished?"

"Yeah." His reply was eager, until he motioned upwards with his head. "Still have to put 'em back in, but we're gettin' there. Not too much more to do."

Leia rose from the lounge. "That sounds promising."

Han opened his hands. "You know I aim to please, Princess."

She smirked at him. "Yes, I'd heard that."

Collecting the datapad, water and protein bar, Leia moved across to the tech station. She placed the items next to the macrofuser and leaned back against its edge. Han watched and followed her every movement as he turned the seat back, bumping his left ankle against hers, before shifting his boots and placing one on either side of her feet, sandwiching her angled legs between his knees and thighs. Less than half a metre stood between her and his lap.

She nodded at the datapad and told him, "I finished the ration audit."

He grinned. "Spreadsheet?"

Leia wrinkled her nose at him. "A couple. I think we've got enough food that we could walk to Coruscant if the urge took us. Looks like you and Chewie weren't planning on coming back any time soon."

His grin fell and his voice was soft as he admitted, "Just hedging my bets."

She wasn't inclined to push him on this; she didn't want to ruin what was currently going on between them; now was not the time to discuss his intention of leaving the Alliance, or her.

She reached back, picked up the water flask, flipped up the hygiene seal. Staring at him, she suggestively tongued the flask's bite valve, before handing the bottle to him. Han took a long draught of the water, his eyes never straying from hers. His larynx shifted in his neck as he swallowed, and she burned as she watched him.

Finished drinking, he asked her, "Keeping your fluids up, Your Worship?"

Leia gave him a demure look. "You tell me, flyboy. Are you giving me enough fluid? I think my lubricant levels might need checking. And I must say, I'm looking forward to that toolkit you promised."

His smile slowly slid up the side of his face and Leia's stomach pitched. He mimicked the way she had tongued the flask's bite valve, then circled his tongue around it in a slow, wet movement, once, twice, three times. His gaze intensified as he flicked the valve with the tip of his tongue, his tongue rolling off the inside of his upper teeth and tapping the valve with languid insistence. Leia felt a similar touch against her core, and she locked her knees to remain upright.

He offered her the flask and she accepted it, placed it into her mouth and took a sip as Han settled his hands on the side of her thighs and continued watching her intently.

Leia swapped the water for the protein bar, then slipped her legs over his, thigh against thigh, wriggling up him until she was pressed against his groin. His hands slipped to the curve of her bottom for adjustment and support. Firm against the apex of her thighs, she could feel his arousal hardening beneath the fabric of his trousers, providing her with both relief and frustration.

She unwrapped the top of the protein bar. "Are you hungry?"

His response was deep and full of potential. "Only for you."

She snapped a portion off the bar and placed it on his tongue as he opened his mouth for her, her fingers brushing against his lips. Continuing to watch each other with heady anticipation, she took a bite of the bar as he chewed and swallowed the part she had given to him. She still had half a mouthful when he leant forward and moved his lips over the top of hers and pushed his tongue into her mouth, sweeping against her tongue, teeth and gums until he collected a piece of her snack and took it back into his own mouth.

Grinning, Han pulled back from her and winked. It took Leia a moment to get over the shockingly erotic nature of his action, and she could not ignore the liquid rush that flooded her body.

"You think you're so good with that tongue," she softly chided, dropping the remains of the protein bar onto the deck and looping her arms around his neck.

"I don't hear you complaining."

Emboldened by the way she confidently and brazenly straddled him, Leia was compelled to chance her hand and nudge him further.

"You'll never get any criticism from me on that front." She looked directly into his eyes, noticed a greenish tinge to them. "I love your tongue. I love the way your tongue makes me feel."

Han responded to her challenge with equal resolve, his gaze unwavering as he asked her, "What else do you love?"

This was dangerous ground. Dangerous and addictive. Prodding each other to see how much would be revealed. Casually throwing around one simple word...

She rocked her hips against him in reply. "I love you inside me."

Han briefly closed his eyes as a shiver tripped through him. She made the movement again and got the same response from him, the one she was after.

"You're gonna get me into trouble if you keep that up," he said, his voice thick in his throat, begging her to continue despite his protest.

She leaned into his chest and nibbled the stubbled side of his jaw, ground her core against his erection. He lifted his head to allow her easier access, his hands now roaming across her back, pushing up her t-shirt, exposing her skin to the heat of his fingers and palms. She pushed the goggles off his forehead and onto the deck, threaded her fingers into his thick hair.

She murmured into the square of his chin, "Why's that?"

One of his thighs trembled beneath her bottom as she rounded the underside of his jaw.

His response was tight. "'Cause I'm gonna take you back to my bunk and fuck you. And Chewie won't appreciate that."

Her tongue ran across the smooth skin on the lower left side of his face.

"But I'll appreciate it." She raised herself along his length as best she could with layers of clothing separating them, while at the same time licking her way down the fresh-shaven side of his neck. "Fuck Chewie."

His chuckle rumbled in his throat, vibrating her lips before the sound melted into a moan as she placed her open mouth over the prominence of his larynx, gently and moistly sucked.

Although clearly affected, this man could talk under mud. "I am not gonna fuck Chewie. No matter how much he begs."

Leia was too focused to react to his joke. Her teeth grazed the dip where his collarbones met, and she pressed an open mouth kiss to the area, ran her tongue back up the length of his neck.

"Is this on your list, Han?" she huskily whispered, tugging his hair, shifting his head to one side so she could tongue the lobe of his ear. "Me fucking you here?" She'd told Threepio Han was going to get her appreciation.

He moaned again and somehow managed to say, "What do you think?"

And then the lights went out. Pitch black, the emergency lighting failing to kick in. An exasperated, muffled Wookiee growl from up in the bulkhead compartment. Han and Leia oblivious to anything apart from each other.

Lit only by the soft glow of the tech station instruments, Leia continued her unhurried exploration of his jaw, throat and base of his neck; scraping her teeth on his stubble; licking the smooth, shaven, Han-scented skin; his soft moans and sighs encouraging her search.

Han's hands returned to her bottom, and he lifted her up, pulled her hard against him, grinding her sex on his. The gentle swaying of her pelvis increased to a demanding, agonising rocking motion. She ached to sink down onto him, to feel him thrusting up inside her body.

_Dry humping, _Leia's lust-filled mind managed to think. Han had explained the concept to her. At the time, she had been unable to grasp the attraction behind it. It sounded like the ultimate, pointless tease. Now, she couldn't enough of it; couldn't get enough of him.

A powerful beam of light suddenly fixed on them from across the hold, but the couple continued unabated. Stomping Wookiee footsteps quickly brought the light closer until they were wincing under its glare. Chewbacca's leathery fingers pushed Leia's hand to one side, and he pulled Han's head back by his hair. Han seemed too surprised by the interruption to work out what was happening.

[Are you responsible for this?] Chewbacca demanded.

Han attempted to pull his head away from his friend's grasp, but the Wookiee's hold was tight against his skull.

"No! I've been sitting here, minding my own business."

Leia buried her face in Han's neck, but her hips remained shifting and pressing against his on their own volition, unable to stop her body's undeniable need for his. Her Sex-With-Han-Brain wanted Chewie to leave them alone; a memory of the Rebel soldier insisted they needed to finish the repairs.

Chewbacca released Han's hair and took a step back, shining the light from their faces down across their bodies.

[Is that what you call it? You're copulating.]

Han was visibly pissed, even if Leia couldn't understand what Chewbacca had said. "This is called foreplay, Gruesome. We're just messing around."

Chewie made a grunt that almost sounded like _Huh?_

"I haven't touched anything—" Han's protest stopped mid-stream and he added, "—apart from Leia, so don't go accusing me of things. I finished the circuits and me and Her Worship were just having a little break. Not my fault the elecs have gone again. And I don't what's wrong with the back-up either."

Han closed his eyes, shook his head, his annoyance deflating as rapidly as the mood and their expectations. Leia slid out of his lap. He looked at her, crestfallen and apologetic.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "Guess I need to have a little talk with Chewie about how humans fuck and all that." He glared at the Wookiee and added, "And how it's none of his fucking business."

Leia cast a glance at Chewbacca, who was shuffling his feet in confusion or embarrassment, the light from his torch angled off to one side.

"You've never had this problem before?" she asked Han.

He shrugged. "I've never fucked on the _Falcon_ before. First time for everything."

This trip was turning into a lot of firsts, for everyone it seemed.

With a sigh that turned into a strangled cry of irritation, Han rose from the seat. Taking Leia's hand in his, he brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Sorry. I need to sort this shit out so we can get back to more enjoyable things."

Leia put her hand against his cheek and kissed him gently on the lips.

"It's okay. That was a nice introduction."

He screwed his face up. "'Nice'? I hope it was better than 'nice'."

"It was," she reassured him. "It was pretty fucking fantastic."

Han gaped at her, stifled a laugh. "Your Worship. Language." He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. "You're getting a mouth as bad as mine."

Her hand found its way back into his hair and she smoothed it over his ear. "I'd love to have a mouth as bad as yours." She wiggled herself against his thigh. "You must be rubbing off on me. Rubbing against me. Rubbing inside me."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, no, no. This is how we started." He took a deep, strength-instilling breath, reluctantly released her and even took a step away. "I need to help Chewie. You," he pointed a finger at her nose, "as much as I love it, need to leave me alone.

Leia smirked at him. "I'll do my debrief report." She dropped the pitch of her voice. "Like a good little girl, Captain Solo."

He nearly whimpered and raised his eyes to the upper bulkhead. "I'm not gonna survive this trip, am I?"

Chewbacca's confusion/embarrassment appeared to have vanished because he suddenly yanked on Han's arm and dragged him away, towards the circuitry bay, taking the light from the torch as well.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Han complained.

"Not yet I hope," she told him, and received another agonised groan in reply.

Smiling to herself, Leia cautiously edged back to the dejarik table in the darkness. She resumed her seat at the lounge and congratulated herself on successfully driving Han as wild as he made her.

She opened the report file and wondered what she could get up to next.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**V**_

* * *

Leia was able to ignore the Han-distractions and concentrate on completing her debrief report, while Han circled around, up and through the ship, trying to fix the damn electrical system, no more than 30 metres from her at any time.

Yes, she had been aware of him—persistently.

Yes, she couldn't stop looking at him if he passed with eyeshot—consistently.

Yes, her stomach dropped through to her core like molten lava when she heard his voice—continually.

Yes, she could smell him—that was his shirt she was wearing.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been within reach for her to taste him, but it was enough for her to recall what it had been like to place her tongue against his skin; to lick, to bite and suck at his body. Maybe it wasn't 'enough', but it was all she was going to get of him for the time being.

But Leia had proven to herself that she could operate as a high-level functioning adult, that she could multi-task, even if part of her brain was fantasising about all the filthy things what she wanted to do to him and with him.

Her report for High Command was finished as much as it could be, the one that provided a debrief on the part she had played in the defense of and escape from Hoth Base. It went into detail about the military elements that had attacked the Base; how the main power generator had been destroyed; the various Star Destroyers they had evaded; the tactics Han had deployed to ensure they eluded capture; the ingenious-stupidity of flying into an asteroid field; the repeated failure of the hyperdrive; and their eventual route towards Bespin. She would update the document once she had returned to the Fleet, though even that would require an addendum as it would take a few additional weeks to locate the Alliance as they would have moved on from their initial rendezvous point.

The report did not mention that she was now sleeping with the captain of the _Millennium Falcon_, that she was taking advantage of this time to give in to long-repressed desires, using every spare moment to make love _with_ him and _to_ him.

Leia opened a new file on her datapad, titled it 'Han', and composed a new chapter in her life.

She wrote about what had happened between her and Han; how he made her feel; what she felt for him; her hopes for the future.

She wrote how he made her laugh—even giggle; how he treated her like a real person, not an icon to a long-dead monarchy; how he valued her as 'Leia', not rank or title.

She wrote what it felt like to fall asleep in his arms; to wake with his arm slung around her waist; what his snore sounded like; how he ground his teeth in his sleep.

Putting the situation into words gave it substance. Her mind gained clarity and focus; she clarified her priorities and intentions; and she was able to recognise and process her emotions. She became grateful for what she had with Han.

This wasn't just a fling, a short-lived affair, a lapse in her judgement, though she imagined there would be those within the Alliance who would try to convince her otherwise.

She was past lying to herself; it wasn't just his shirt, his voice, his face or his body that made her nerves tingle and her blood burn. It was the whole package. It was Han. He made her feel alive, safe, cherished, loved. No one—no man—had ever made her feel like this. And she loved him for it.

Leia made a separate catalogue of all the silly names she used to describe and blame for her actions and emotions:

Han-addled

Han-brain

Han-crazy

Han-disorder

Han-distraction

Han-flesh

Han-relief

Han-scent

Han-skin

Han-smitten

And then she labelled the list 'My Sex-With-Han-Brain'.

If this was an illness, she didn't want a cure.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**VI**_

* * *

After more than two hours of griping, swearing and growling, Han and Chewbacca reached the end of the repairs. Chewbacca was packing up tools, stowing away equipment, while Han was in the circuitry bay, macrofuser in hand and protective goggles on, knees bent, leaning forward, that tantalising piece of rump enticing Leia from afar.

From the dejarik table, Leia could see him welding in the same location where she had repaired a valve while they had hidden from the Empire. The same bay where he had audaciously approached her, ignored her half-hearted protests and kissed her—and she had kissed him back. The bay where, if she'd been thinking straight, she would've kneed him in the groin for his intimidatory behaviour, even if the touch of his mouth on hers had been the spark that lit her flame.

She hadn't rejected his advances, and here she was, dreaming up ways to fuck him. Life could be funny like that. The point, her Sex-With-Han-Brain took great delight in telling her, was to go with the flow and not take it too seriously.

Leia approached the circuitry bay in stealth mode, which was rather easy as she wore socks and her prey was absorbed in his work. She stood in the entrance, waiting for the right moment to approach him, not wanting to cause him injury or damage the repairs, though the lights hadn't gone off again since the last time, so she suspected what he was repairing wasn't related to the ECS.

Watching him intently—but not the arc flashes—Leia quickly recognised that there was a cadence to his welding action_: short, short, short, long, long, assess_. She should've expected this was the way he welded. Han had a natural rhythm to him; from the way his hips moved as he swaggered his way through life, to the way his hips moved above her as he thrust inside her.

_Short, short, short, long, long, assess._

The same tempo he kept when he was making love to her, with his body or with his tongue.

Leia decided it would be safer/fairer/easier to pounce when he was in the assessing stage, when he was reviewing his progress on the weld. She leaned her shoulder against the entrance to the bay and waited for her moment.

_Short, short, short—_

Leia pushed herself upright and moved behind him.

—_long, long—_

Held her breath, positioned her hand above his rear.

—_assess._

And firmly ran her hand along the curve of his ass, her fingers pinching him as they came to the end.

"Hey!" he called out, jumping upright and looking behind, not expecting to be fondled in the middle of his repairs.

Leia cleared her throat and continued walking. "Excuse me. Just passing through."

She headed out the other side of the bay, leaving him slightly bewildered as to what had just happened, turning his head in both directions, googled eyes struggling to adjust to the artificial lighting of the ship's interior.

Leia jogged down through the ring corridor and around to the main hold the long way. By the time she had returned to the dejarik table, Han had resumed his welding, His rhythm had increased, now in a hurry to finish his work and tend to both of their needs.

_Short, short, short, long, long, assess._

_Short, short, short, long, long, assess._

_Short, short, short, long, long, assess—_

Standing on her toes, Leia pressed her hips against his backside and placed her hands on his hips. His reaction to her touch was not as explosive, possibly because he had been expecting her to return; he stood up slightly before resting back into her lap.

Goggles still covering his eyes, he dropped his head and shook it ruefully. "I'm nearly finished, Sweetheart. Just a few more minutes."

Leia slid her hands to the top of his thighs. "That's all right," she said. "I can wait."

She didn't move, he didn't move: her hips against his ass; her hands on his thighs; her chest close to the small of his back.

The touch of her pubic bone against him inflamed the already pulsating nub between legs. She suddenly thought she understood why he enjoyed thrusting into her; there was a strength to this position, a feeling of power and control. At the same time, it was inherently a sharing motion; giving instead of receiving; active instead of passive; all of this helping her to work out how he thought, how he operated.

Han made a small, questioning huff. "You gonna stay like that?

"Uh-huh." Leia skimmed her hands, along the length of his quad muscles, her fingers curling into his inner thighs. "Why? Am I distracting you?"

He took a deep breath and told her, "Maybe just a bit."

She smoothed the fabric of his trousers around the circumference of his thighs, kneading the firmness, her finger slipping up higher as she thrust her hips into him from behind. He squirmed against her, made no attempt to break their contact.

"Aren't you going to finish?" she purred, palm and fingers now exploring his groin, poking, prodding, encouraging him to harden.

Han nearly dropped the macrofuser, scrabbled to keep it in his grasp. "Keep doing that and I will. And then where will you be."

"You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Han?"

He gasped, leaned into her cupped hand, while at the same time keeping his rear against her hips.

"Not intentionally. I've got no control when it comes to you. Can't help myself."

"Liar." She squeezed his hardening arousal and he flinched before angling himself further into her palm. "You have lots of control. You told me you've controlled yourself for two years."

Leaving one hand on the front of his groin, gripping and kneading him, Leia reached the other under the curve of his ass, caressing the inside of his thigh, and rubbing where the seams of his trousers met. She could feel his resolve melting beneath her touch.

"You turn me on at the flick of a switch," she gently accused. "You've got me wrapped around your little finger."

Han half-laughed. "Who's got who wrapped around where? Look what you're doing to me."

Leia took a moment to look—seriously look—at the position she had him in. Groping him in the circuitry bay, the goggles obscuring his vision. Not that he was complaining, but she was definitely calling the shots in this relationship. But then it had been like from the start.

He had waited two years for her to come to him, nudging and encouraging her, but they hadn't made love until it had completely been her decision. And once they had become intimate, he did everything possible he could to keep her pleasured and sated, content and happy. An angry or spiteful word hadn't passed between them since she'd found her way into his bunk. The spin-off for him, she knew, was that he benefitted from everything he willingly gave to her.

Leia dragged a hand down the back of his thigh, shifting her hips further into him, almost bumping him against the panel he'd been working on.

"You're pretty good at holding yourself back," she told him, "waiting for me to come before you."

She couldn't believe they were having this conversation, in this position. She fondled him until he sighed again.

"I do it because I want to make you happy," he admitted, his quads and hamstrings trembling. "You deserve some happiness in your life, Leia." She had found a point between his legs that made him arch his neck. "And I do it because I want you…"

He stopped mid-sentence, his idea half-lost or half-completed, either because of the intoxicating tension between them, or the veracity of his feelings, or the way she relentlessly stroked him.

Leia ceased her caresses as she waited to hear what he wanted from her. When he didn't continue, she asked, "What do you want, Han?"

His voice was tight in his throat, his response a shadow of what she suspected he wanted to say. "I want you to like me."

The throbbing between her legs leapt up through her chest and stabbed her in the heart. She'd heard the vulnerability in his tone. He was laying things out for her in the only way he knew how.

Leia slipped her hands from his groin, moved then up around his waist and lay her cheek against his back, cradling him to her.

"I _like_ you," she told him, hoping her embrace offered him the reassurance he needed; her voice the truth of what she felt for him, if not the exact words; that he meant more to her than just four weeks of fun and fucking. "I _more_ than like you." She squeezed him, pressed a kiss into his back. "I want what you want." If that didn't make things clear to him without either of them same _those words_, she wasn't sure what would.

Han didn't reply, but he placed one of his hands over the top of hers and let his silence and the moment speak for itself.

Then Leia made sure he understood that she was also sexually attracted to him and she had needs that required his attention.

"And I want your cock. Inside me. Within the next ten minutes."

His laugh rumbled against her cheek where her head still rested on his back.

"Can I start with my tongue?" he asked. "You like me starting with my tongue."

She poked a finger into his stomach. "_You_ like starting with your tongue. I'm easy."

"I wouldn't say that," he ventured.

She kissed his back again and gave him another quick fondle before pushing away from him.

"Come and see me when you're finished. I'll be waiting."

He nodded without looking at her and returned to his welding.

_Short, short, short, long, long, assess._

_Short, short, short, long, long, assess…_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**VII**_

* * *

As she promised, Leia waited for him. She sat perched on the dejarik table and continued watching him work in the circuitry bay, her legs swinging, occasionally glancing down at the open files on her datapad but not doing more than that.

Chewbacca had finished tidying up and was down in the galley making a racket, presumably fixing something to eat and bellowing out some Kashykkkian song at the top of his lungs.

With the ECS in working order, the Wookiee was appeased and appeared to be giving them space. Han really needed to talk to Chewbacca about what she and Han may get up to over the ensuing weeks. And she and Han needed to be more respectful of Chewie and not treat the whole of the _Falcon_ like their personal bedchamber.

_That's never gonna happen,_ her Sex-With-Han-Brain told her in Han's voice.

She'd been waiting for nearly ten minutes, when Han came out from the bay, wiping his hands on a rag and the legs of his trousers. His white t-shirt was smudged with dirt, grease and debris from weld flux. He smiled at her as he stowed the macrofuser and goggles away in a locker next to the tech station, before heading over to where she sat.

"Still working on that spreadsheet?" he asked behind his grin, nodding towards the datapad on the table as he continued scrubbing his fingers with the rag.

Leia stretched a leg out towards him as he got closer, hoping to touch him.

"Reviewing," she said with an indifferent shrug. "Would you like to see it?"

Han screwed up his nose. "Nah. I trust you. 'Sides, I knew we'd have enough rations."

She gave him a small, knowing smile as things slotted into place for her. "So, you made me do all that work for nothing?" She'd suspected as much, but it didn't bother her. At least now she knew for certain there was no chance of them starving. "You wanted to keep me occupied?"

She hooked her foot around the back of his thigh and he compliantly allowed her to pull him up against the table.

"Wanted you to feel useful," he explained, tossing the rag over his shoulder where it landed on the chair in front of the tech station. "I was also afraid you'd distract me. Which you ended up doing anyway."

With most of the grime off his hands, he placed them on her forearms, ran them up to her shoulders. Leia reached her other ankle around him, drew him closer and hugged his legs between hers. While this was very nice position to have him in, his groin sat teasingly some distance above hers.

"I finished my debrief report as well," she said. "Would you like to see that?"

He made a fleeting show of considering her offer before telling her, "Nope."

She slid her fingers through the belt loops on his hips to ground him to her. "Not even all the good things I wrote about you. The nice things about you that the staff officers in High Command will have to review and end up choking on their collective epaulettes and aiguillettes."

He traced the line of her shoulder towards her neck, where his fingers teased tendrils that had fallen loose from the tail of her hair.

His voice somehow managed to deepen as he suggested, "Why don't you read it to me in bed?"

Sitting on the table made their height difference worse, and he was forced to bend at the waist to bring his head closer to hers.

"Don't tell me you need more of an ego boost in bed than I already give you?"

"Every little bit helps, Sweetheart."

She placed a hand at the back of his neck and drew him down, eager to feel his mouth on hers him again. Instead he feathered soft, open mouthed kisses to her face, her neck, behind her ear, a copy of what she had done to him in front of the tech station. Leia held onto his arms to stop herself toppling off the table.

He came up for air to ask, "Here?"

Leia shook her head once. "That wouldn't be fair to Chewie. He loves dejarik. I wouldn't want to ruin that for him." She pulled his head up so she could look into his eyes. "Is this on your list?"

He grinned at her. "Tick! Well, point-five of a tick. My list has us naked."

She ran a loving hand down his cheek. "Of course, it does."

He nudged himself tighter against her.

"Our bunk?"

She nodded, nearly melted_. Our bunk..._

"And then," he paused to consider his phrasing before asking, "how do you want it?"

Leia had to stop herself from laughing. "You're taking my order?"

Han shrugged. "Prior preparation prevents piss-poor performance." It was an old military saying Leia knew well and a pretty decent fit for the lovemaking arena. "Wanna know what you expect so I can give you what you want. I'm about ready to explode and I don't want an unintentional discharge."

Another apt military expression.

"We can't have that," she agreed, then she looked at him seriously, as if issuing an admin instruction. "I want to ride you until I come. Then hard and fast, with you on top."

Han closed his eyes as he tied to repress a moan. "Big mistake to ask.

He took a moment to hike her thighs up around his waist, collected her in his arms as she locked her legs against the small of his back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled her up from the table, his hands cradling her pelvis. Joined together, they headed towards their cabin.

Although Leia was tempted to continue teasing him, she left him alone, content to enjoy the anticipation as he barrelled them down the corridor as quickly as he could without dropping her. At the entrance to the cabin, he bumped the hatch control panel with his elbow.

"You've done that before," Leia noted as the hatch _shooshed_ open.

He shook his head once as he carried her over the threshold and replied, "Told you: never fucked on the _Falcon_ before. Just my vivid imagination. I've been planning this manoeuvre for years."

He closed the hatch with a bump from his other elbow and helped her down from his waist and onto the deck. Each took responsibility for removing their own clothes, and although Han had the added worry of boots, belt and boxer briefs to contend with, he was faster than Leia. Naked, he gently knocked her back onto the bunk and proceeded to pull the socks off her feet as she was still wiggling the sweatpants down her legs. As there was no need to hurry, she could only snicker at how absurd and desperate their actions were.

Giggling, she told him, "You're insane".

Han flipped her calves up onto the sheets and scrambled over the top of her. "You've told me that before. Takes one to know one."

It wasn't the most mature thing to say, but Leia had to agree with him; they were obviously crazy about each other.

They slept with two pillows at the head of the bunk as opposed to the one Han used before he had acquired a sleeping partner, and he settled both on top of each other on the sleeping pallet before flopping back against them and wiggling them under his hips.

"More height and leverage for you," he explained at Leia's questioning look, propping himself up on his elbows. "You'll be able to hold on and really go for it."

Amused and bewildered, she blinked, replied as though he had just offered her a cup of tea, "So thoughtful of you."

The banality of her response didn't stop her from reaching across and bouncing his erection with her index finger.

"Think you can work with that?" he asked suggestively.

Kneeling next to his feet, she straddled his ankles and began sliding herself up his legs, grazing her moist flesh against the heat of his skin and the fine hairs that tickled. "No matter how much you beg, I'm not putting that into my debrief report."

"Why not? Dodonna'd go ballistic!"

"Next report," she promised.

She reached his thighs and stopped, thinking to ask, "Gel?"

"Oh." Han hunted around on the sheets beside him, then looked across at the bunkside alcove. "Must be—"

Leia stretched and located the tube under a used washcloth in the niche. She squeezed a dollop of the clear lubricant out of the self-sealing container and onto her fingers. She lifted herself up on her knees and placed her hand between her legs, angling her fingers to spread the gel up into the tenderness.

Watching her movements, Han leered and grimaced at the same time. "Sorry."

She winced and focused on what she was doing, ensuring she did all she could to ease the discomfort. "Nothing you've done. Guess it comes with the territory." Her ministrations completed, she looked down at him. "Should've done a risk assessment."

He pulled a mortified face. "Er, doesn't sound good."

She squeezed more lubricant into her hand. "You're correct. I'm afraid you're a critical risk, Captain Solo. Probability: frequent. Severity: catastrophic."

"That in your report, too? Maybe, you should sit this one out," he teased.

Leia took that moment to grab hold of his erection with enough force that his hips lurched upwards.

"I'm implementing preventative measures." She stroked the gel up and down the length of him.

"First time I've heard it called tha—ooh…"

His head lolled to one side. It appeared she had found a spot that shut him up. But only temporarily.

"How long we been doin' this?" he asked, entranced with the vertical movement of her hand.

Leia stopped and glanced down at the hand that was relentless fondling him, looking to her wrist where her chrono should have been, then across to the desk where it lay next to his gun-rig. Biting her bottom lip, she attempted to do a quick calculation.

"Um, let's see…"

The touch of Han's fingers under her chin drew her gaze back to his. "I didn't mean literally," he told her with a tender smirk.

The delight and love in his eyes blocked her self-consciousness from bubbling up too high.

"I am not anal," she said, struggling to keep the smile from her face.

"Don't know what you were doin' to me in the circuitry bay, Sweetheart, but that was pretty—"

She stroked him again to stress her point. "I am not anal."

"You're beautiful," he said.

Her response was instinctive, pressing her lips to his, opening his mouth with her tongue, kissing him with unhurried passion, her hand tightly holding him while the other pushed through his hair. When they parted, she leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes, revelling in the moment, in the way he made her feel.

"What I had wanted to say," he began, "was I'm glad you're comfortable around me. I'm glad you aren't afraid to do whatever you want with me, whatever makes you feel good. And I'm glad I didn't scare you off with all that heavy bullshit I pulled on you in the asteroid field."

He was talking about his recent insensitive attempts to seduce her. Because she now understood him and his motivations, Leia could see that his attempts had been born out of her own repetitive rejection of and indifference towards him, the frustration he had felt and his compelling need to beat his head against those walls for two long years. They both knew he had come close to completely fucking up any hope he'd had of making his feelings towards her known, even if his intentions had been brutally apparent.

He tilted his head back so he could kiss her nose. "Things are moving fast."

Leia pulled back so she could look into the depths of his warm, hazel eyes, once so guarded and hidden beneath a scowl.

"Things _are_ moving fast," she conceded, "but that's because this is a very artificial situation we've found ourselves in."

The two of them, stuck together in close proximity, in such a small environment, for such a relatively long period of time—of course, they were either going to kill each other or fall in love. It was a normal courtship running high on spice.

"Lucky us," he whispered.

'_Us'…he wants there to be an 'us'._

"Lucky us," she agreed.

Neither spoke another word, content to stare at each other, sharing their breath and small smiles.

"So…" Han eventually said, his eyes widening as he flexed himself in her hand, "you gonna fuck me?"

Leia's gaze briefly dropped, a distant echo of the pre-Han woman who would have been embarrassed by his unashamed desire and crude language, before returning her eyes to his and giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"It would be my pleasure," she told him.

"Mine too," he sighed as she slid down on top of him.

The slow and practiced motion of slipping him inside herself was easier and more fulfilling than she ever imagined it could be. Even with the slight discomfort caused by overuse and over-enthusiasm, the satisfying feeling of completeness—of oneness—with him dissolved away the tenderness, igniting her hunger for him.

"Han…" she breathed, closing her eyes as her legs folded up on either side of his hips, the benefit of the extra depth he had provided towards the mattress now apparent. Gravity, it seemed, was a welcome bedfellow.

His hands were on her waist, anticipating, waiting for her to decide how, where and when she wanted to move next, preparing to help her in whatever way he could.

She directed her attention towards him, imagined what his erection looked like lodged within her; the shape and texture; the velvety hardness; the strength and pleasure he gave to her. The nub between her legs throbbed and she shifted to press herself against his pubic bone and the taut muscle of his lower torso.

He flexed inside her and she squeezed him in return, acknowledging his presence. The thrumming deep in her core swelled to a relentless, demanding ache.

Leia whispered his name in her mind: _Han._

It wasn't enough; she needed to say it, needed to hear it spoken in her own voice.

"Han…"

"Right here, Sweetheart."

Another subtle adjustment of her hips, pressing harder against him, legs clinging onto his sides, sinking into and onto his body as she sought to take him further in. She gripped his erection again and held onto him this time, her hands clutching at his, steadying herself, anchoring herself to him, barely moving otherwise.

"Han…"

She gasped at the sudden liquid rush surging up from her core, through her stomach and into her lungs; her respiration increasing with her heart rate; her pulse racing and thumping in her core, neck and chest.

Eyes still closed, she focused on his name again, called up an image of him in her mind. Squeezed him again.

_Han…love you…_

"Han…oh…Han…"

The simplicity of her climax increased its intensity, rising and sweeping through her, hurtling her up into an overwhelming rush of pleasure and emotions, leaving her in a blissful fog of joy, contentment and gratification.

She steadied herself, thought his name again, identifying him as the source of her orgasm, physically and spiritually.

_Han…_

Leia opened her eyes and looked down at him. His eyes were soft and glassy, mouth open as he breathed in and out, chest rising and falling, his breathing in sync with hers. Their entwined fingers rested on her thighs.

He swallowed, took a breath, swallowed again.

"Did you—?" He closed his eyes, opened them, his voice a whisper as he asked, "You did, didn't you?"

Leia gave him a wry smile and collapsed gracefully onto his chest, ensuring she didn't let him slip out from between her legs. Han wrapped his arms around her fiercely, pressed a kiss into her hair.

"You hardly moved."

"I didn't need to," she said, resting her head on his collarbone. "I had you inside me. I said your name. That's all I needed."

His sigh was anguished, grateful. "Leia..."

Holding her against his chest, still locked deep within her, Leia's hips soon began shifting against his, imploring him to continue lovemaking. She sought out his neck with her mouth, licking and nipping at his skin, running her hands across his chest, strumming her fingers across his nipples.

She got what she wanted. Han rolled them both over, pivoting on butt and thigh while she held onto him. He sat up on his knees, between her legs, half slipping out of her as he did. Leia shunted her hips upwards, attempting to pull him back in.

"Wait a sec," he lightly scolded. "Don't get greedy." Then he thought to check in with her. "This still all right?"

Leia gave him a _what-do-you-think-look_ but softened it with a kiss to the palm of his hand.

"Just confirming," he assured her.

He grabbed one of the pillows he had been lying on and pushed it up against the side of her hip and bottom. "Scoot up."

She complied and found the thrust up of her hips re-captured him, before she lowered herself back onto the pillow and he slid half-out again. Han repeated the action with the second pillow, settled her thighs up against his, before he grasped her hips, slipped her legs over the crook of his elbows and with a gentle nudge, slid himself fully into her.

They both sighed in agreement.

"Now _that_ feels fucking fantastic," he smugly told her, referencing her previous comment about dry humping him.

There was no denying his claim. In this position, she could appreciate the full, hard length of him, plunging into her, her own body stretching around him to accommodate and cherish him. This reminded her yet again how _good_ and _right_ it felt to be joined with him like this.

But she couldn't resist a mischievous taunt.

Leia raised her eyes to the upper bulkhead, twisting her lips in serious consideration before looking back at him. "Well…if you say so."

He narrowed his eyes and began withdrawing from her. "You want a piece of this or not?" His tone teasing and playful.

Leia returned his smirk. "Just fuck me, Solo."

With all the teasing, fondling and groping that had been going on, it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge.

He began his _welding_ _rhythm_ on her, ratcheting the tension between them, a wrench turning a socket.

Slow, slow, slow, quick, quick, assess.

Slow, slow, slow, quick, quick, assess.

Slow, slow, slow, quick, quick, assess.

Slow, slow, slow—

—he stopped at the crest of the thrust, buried up to his groin inside her, and groaned, the sexiest sound Leia had ever head. His chin dropped to his chest as his torso stretched, twitching inside her. When he raised his head again, his gaze was somehow ardent and evident, smouldering and clear. He opened his mouth, hesitated, wanting, _needing_ to tell her.

"Leia..." He licked his lips, an instinctive, nervous flick of his tongue. "I..I—"

Her response was innate, protective, shielding them from a too-soon admission, something that should not be said in the heat of passion. She did not need to hear it from him to understand the veracity of his emotions.

"I know."

Leia reached up, pulled his hand and he willingly tumbled down onto her body. She drove her hips up against his, squeezed him again, urging him to resume his thrusting cadence from this position. Hands fumbling under her back, he pulled her hard against his body and plunged himself deep inside her, pitching towards the head of the bunk.

Leia wrapped her legs around the backs of thighs, splayed her fingers on his backside, her touch and sighs encouraging his swaying pace. Although swollen and invigorated by his thrusts, she did not seek further release—this was for him and it would not take long.

Despite his previous claim of being ready to explode, his climax was not volatile. He trembled, shuddered and spilled into her, relief and awe evident on his face, continuing to pump until he was spent.

He flopped his torso onto the bunk next to her as he remained inside her, hips, groins and legs entwined, one hand caressing her shoulder as he spiralled down, catching his breath.

Watching him find his pleasure, sharing that pleasure with him, Leia's stomach flipped and churned.

_This is it, _she thought. _If it isn't, I don't know what is._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Tease**_

_**by CorellianBlue**_

(first published 2020)

_Warnings: language, sexual situations, adult content_

_**VIII**_

* * *

"You weld like you fuck me," she told him as they lay together in their bunk.

His chin rested on top of her head, chest pressed against her back, hot and sticky with shared sweat. He'd hitched his leg up over hers, sandwiched his arm underneath hers and draped it across her ribs, cradling her against his body. His palm reverently cupped her breast, the caress more sensual than sexual.

Sometimes in bed, his body heat was too intense for her and she was forced to find a cooler position in their bunk, always keeping a hand, foot or leg in contact with him. But she never edged away from his side during the intimacy they shared after making love. This was when she needed him to hold and cherish her the most.

"Or maybe you fuck me like you weld."

She felt his chest puff up with conceit and delight. "With style and grace?"

She smiled. "If that's what you want me to say, then, yes."

The hand on her breast dropped down to poke her in the ribs. "What do you mean then?"

Leia weaved her fingers through his to hold off any idea he might have about tickling her. "You have the same rhythm. Three slow, two quick, stop to check on progress. If I didn't love it so much, I might be offended. I almost feel like a metalwork project."

There was surprise in his question. "You've watched me that carefully?"

"You have no idea how much I watch you," she admitted, grateful to relieve herself of the burden she'd been harbouring since she'd first met him. And then she decided to include him in her other, recently-formed secret. "I have a Sex-With-Han-Brain."

"A what?"

As soon as she had spoken, she knew she shouldn't have mentioned it. The last thing Han needed was his ego further stroked, along with everything else she fondled.

He poked and prodded at her ribs until, wriggling and gasping, she admitted, "A Sex-With-Han-Brain!"

She could hear the smile in his voice. "I have no idea what you are talking about, but it sounds serious."

"Oh, it's serious, all right," she acknowledged.

She pulled his arm further around her, pressed his hand flat against her chest, over her heart, and covered it with hers.

He wanted to know, "What are the symptoms?"

Leia ticked off this new list she had developed, eager to make him laugh and to reveal the depth of her feelings for him.

"All-consuming Han-fantasies."

She had him at her first point; his fond laughter rumbling against her back.

"Can't focus on anything other sex for longer than five minutes at a time, but only sex with someone named Han."

"Understandable," he said without a hint of humility.

"The need to touch, rub, kiss, lick or bite some piece of…" She was already in this up to her neck, so she figured she might as well dive under. "…Han-flesh."

Her audacity stopped him in his tracks, and he incredulously choked out, "'Han-flesh'?"

She ploughed on, trusting he would catch up. "Raging nymphomania." She suddenly thought of a new word for her problem, tried it out on him. "Han-phomania?"

"Han-phomania? That sounds like a really bad soup I had in Mos Eisley once."

"Han-phomania," she insisted.

He relented, "Okay. Han-phomania. Anything else?"

"That's not enough?"

His rested the side of his head against hers, sighed, hugged her closer.

He asked, "Is there a cure for this…?"

"Sex-With-Han-Brain," she reminded him.

He repeated, "Sex-With-Han-Brain."

Leia shook her head, the tail of her hair brushing into his face. "Don't think so." She dropped the pitch of her voice to show she was serious—mockingly serious. "I hear it can be terminal."

He continued playing along with her. "Hmm...not good. You deserve a kiss for that." He placed a feather-light kiss on her cheek. "Did that make it better?"

"It's a start," she concurred.

He bumped his hips against her backside, but his lack of arousal indicated he would not take this further, at least not yet. "Maybe I could give you another injection later and we could see if that helps."

Leia giggled; he was the only man who could make her giggle; the only man she wanted to make her giggle. "I suspect that's how I contracted it in the first place."

His voice rumbled in her ear. "Well, then Your Worship, guess we'll have to be fucked in the head together."

His ineloquent proposal was achingly sweet. She turned, swivelling under his arm until she faced him. He re-settled his arm over her, and she slipped one of her legs between both of his.

She traced the line of his jaw and chin with her index finger. "You know, Han, you say the most romantic things to me."

She wondered if he still thought she was joking when he flippantly replied, "I try my best."

They continued staring at each other, breath mingling, gaze flicking over each other's features: eyes, nose, mouth.

"Smooth," Leia finally said.

Han frowned, until she placed the pads of her fingers along the left-side of his jaw.

"I like you smooth." She moved her hand across to the other side of his face. "But rough is certainly attractive as well."

"I'll be anything you want," he promised.

Then she remembered something else she needed to resolve.

"Have I told you you're a tease?"

He shrugged his right shoulder, and her eyes followed the rise of the prominent point of his clavicle she was fond of nibbling.

"So are you." He shifted his head, angled his mouth so he could run his tongue around the outer rim of her ear, telling her between licks as she arched against him, "A. Very. Lovely. Tease."

He stopped as soon as he started, pulled her closer and buried his face against the side of her head, inhaled the scent of her hair.

"It's just as well we're onto each other's game," Han told her.

Leia agreed, "Just as well."

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading through until the end.  
**

**I have had a fantastic time writing this and feel inspired to continue writing more Flight to Bespin fics, until the duration stretches out from 40 days to 4000!**

**I don't want to sound like a begging author, but I see lots of views and visits and not too many comments. Please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed the flight.**

**Cheers, CB**


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